A High Vantage

The twine was secured, but midday light caught a copper surveyor's plumb bob sitting motionless on the rafter beam beside me. I did not move it. Down below, the workbench lay quiet: the plane blade, the oil bottle, the neat coils of wire all held their stations without fault. I stepped onto the wide timber ridge, bracing my boots against the dry grain, and folded my hands across my belt. A stray draft stirred from the eaves, carrying the clean scent of cedar. No adjustments were required. From up here, the entire perimeter is accounted for, and the silence is undisturbed.